


And we fall through fate

by JemDoe



Category: Wonder Woman (2017)
Genre: F/M, POV Second Person, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, y'all know this ends badly lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-09 08:19:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11665245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JemDoe/pseuds/JemDoe
Summary: She marches through no man’s land like a goddess of battle, and at any moment - any moment, now - you half-expect that wings will sprout from her back.





	1. Chapter 1

You’re born with words marking your skin in black ink, which is not usual. Most people have to wait a few years until your soulmate knows how to read for the writing to become visible, if that happens - but the words on your skin, clear as day, say your own name, leaving off a question to be answered. Your parents questioned what could have brought your own name to be your soulmate’s last words to you, but you - you don’t know, too, and part of you…

Part of you wonders why. What could have been the cause of such a thing? It’s not normal - there’s a hint of sadness, of confusion, hidden between the pretty calligraphy, and you wonder what you could have done to your soulmate. Did you abandon however they were? If so - why?

When the war starts to eclode (it starts years before books will say it starts; Europe starts to gear up for a fight before anyone can say it has begun.) you wonder if this will be it. When the war explodes, in fact (one shot, and death haunts Europe), you know that you will die during it. Only war could bring such words, right? On the upside, you figure, at least you will meet your soulmate before the end. Last words always happen, and humanity had several lifetimes to prove it.

When you notice, though, you aren’t dead yet and the war is coming to a close - you just need to give Dr. Poison’s book to the general, and - and it’ll be done, and your soulmate will be a mystery until you die off… Probably something not war-related. Something stupid. Something utterly, utterly mundane. Just like you. 

Of course, it’s right then when you crash into the ocean and an angel comes to save you. Perhaps a mermaid, if the way she swims is any indication, and she saves your life. You look into her eyes - brown and soft and  _ oh god she’s the most beautiful creature you’ve ever seen  _ \- and.

And then everything goes to hell, of course. It’s war, what else is expected? The women of this island (which seems to have only women) fight and defend themselves, but what is a spear and leather compared to a bullet? They do kill the German soldiers that are after the notebook you stole, but their losses are extraordinary. The one that saved you, with words sprawling on her arm you hadn’t had an opportunity to read yet, seems to mourn the woman that saved her the most.

After this, they turn to you and interrogate you. At first, you know you won’t break. At second, you’re spilling everything you know because their glowing rope  _ burns.  _ The lasso of Hestia, the one that saved you calls it, compels you to tell the truth, and tell the truth you do.

At least it gives you a shot of seeing the angel’s words -  _ I love you,  _ in a familiar, familiar scrawl. Why, of course you’d recognize it - it’s yours. It’s weird, seeing your own letters tattooed in a stranger’s skin, but you figure it must feel like this to everyone else.

Well, perhaps not exactly, considering you were being interrogated by a queen moments before being thrown in a doctor’s office, but still. The doctor watches you with curiosity in her eyes, and the first thing she notices, while dressing your wounds (superficial as they are), is the writing, sprawled in your back.

“Huh,”, is all she says, and you make an inquisitive noise. “Good to know.”

“What?”, you ask, curiosity hitting you like a bullet. 

“You have these words, as well,”, the doctor says. She seems friendly. That’s good, you suppose. “No one else has. Except for Diana, but we do not know why.”

“Huh,”, you answer, and she nods, quiet. You wonder. If no one else has, then why does… “Diana is the one who saved my life?”

She nods once more.

“Oh yes. Wonderful girl,”, the doctor hums, and slaps your back lightly. “Alright, you’re good to go. There’s a bath I think you would appreciate. It’ll help you heal, if you _do_ bathe on it.”

You’re not dumb - this island had a lasso that forced you to tell the truth; if they say there’s a magical bath, you  _ are  _ going to bath on it.

That’s how Diana finds you, actually. Your sole luck is that… No, scratch that. There’s no sole luck in this setting. You do try to sound good in this setting, but there’s - there’s no way.

“What’s that?”, she asks, curiosity shining in her voice, and it takes you what seems like an entire minute to take your damn mind out of the gutter, noticing her eyes are on the watch. Of course.  _ Of course.  _

“It’s a… It’s a watch,”, you reply, carefully, because you almost went there. You’re almost sure that, had you said what your mind wanted to say, the ladies from before would rain over your head from every hole in the room, somehow, and kill you. You wouldn’t be surprised.

You talk with her, carefully moving yourself - you don’t need to be smart to know she will recognize her own letters on your skin - so that your back doesn’t show to her. She’s smart - it shows in her dark eyes. Diana will figure it out, eventually. You just hope she doesn’t figure out you’re the one.  _ If  _ you’re the one. You’re getting ahead of yourself.

You ask her some questions, try and get information on where you are, what she is. Thanking her comes easy, and she’s genuine in every question. Falling in love was never so easy.

She’s not here to let you go, but something you say makes her eyes shine, leaving. You look in the direction she went, and nod to yourself. Yeah, okay. You open your map, pick up your bussole from your jacket’s pocket, and you know you’re in for a long,  _ long  _ night when the pointer starts spinning wildly.

You know you’re in for a  _ longer  _ night when she returns, dressed like she’s some classical figure from Rome or Greece, sword in hand, a goddess of battle with no battle.

“Nice outfit,”, you manage to say. She seems exhausted, but not physically.

“Thank you,”, she says, and - is that sarcasm in her voice? - looks at you. “Now, I’ll show you the way off the island, and you’ll take me to Ares.”

Okay, okay. This you can deal with. 

“Deal.”


	2. Chapter 2

She marches through no man’s land like a goddess of battle, and at any moment - any moment, now - you half-expect that wings will sprout from her back. She runs, and if it weren’t for the small sparks of bullets hitting her bracelets, her shield, you’d be sure they were passing through her and not leaving a spot, as if she were not flesh but solely a spirit of war, personified, humanized. You call for her, but no goddess listens to mortal men.

You find yourself going after her, feet moving before you order them to, and even though you cannot fight by her side - you’re no Amazon, after all -, offering her cover is the least you can do. Your gun is an extension of your arm, and the trigger feels like part of your finger as you shoot. 

The words marked in her skin seem to shine, burning like fire, but maybe it’s your eyes. She looks alive,  _ unrestricted _ , and this - this is how she is supposed to be. The battlefield is her home and her destiny; and you shouldn’t have tried to stop her, for Diana is unstoppable. She ignores the trenches, after she is done with it, calls for you, and goes for the city.

Of course. You follow her, and so do the others; the goddess of battle herself is with you tonight, and no one is stupid enough to ignore her. Diana makes you want to study mythology, just to draw comparisons between her and it, but perhaps later. If you survive.

She goes for the city - occupied, and the soldiers inside try and shoot her on sight, but she runs for cover. She watches them for what seems like half a second.

“Stay here, I’ll go ahead,”, and before you can say anything, she runs. Sameer looks at you, but you cannot control Diana. You’re not sure how anyone could, in fact, and something inside you tells you no one ever has. You see her run through the main street and disappear in a corner, and then, broken glass and bullets. She ran inside a building, it seems.

No, correction: she runs  _ through  _ a building, as if concrete were nothing more than a castle of cards. You can hear the sound of fighting, from the inside, but you’re sure Diana is safe. Your duty, however, is other - it’s to make sure she has cover to fight on the ground whenever she decides to end the cleaning inside the buildings she is doing.

And when she does come out - in an explosion of dust and glass and (is that a  _ body _ ) wood -, she lands ready to fight, running. God (gods?) be damned, she is extraordinary, and if she is not how you die, then what’s the point? The mark in your back burns, but you keep fighting.

The battle finds its way to the main square, and you arrive there just in time to see her flip a tank as if it weighed nothing. Alright. You two share a glance, and fight back to back - you and your gun, her and her lasso. Well, as back to back as two long-ranged weapons in a long-ranged fight can get, anyway.

A sniper shoots a civilian, and you call it out, you and Diana running for cover - you, to save your own skin, her, to save other people. Charlie tries to shoot the sniper out, but he is unable.

Which, of course, means your mind has the worst idea mankind could ever conceive, as you look into a tank’s door. That could work. 

It works - and how it works! The entire top of the church the sniper had nested in is destroyed with one swift punch from Diana. You’re almost sure it was a priceless historical church. Amazing.

Diana rises unscathed from the debris, watching over the populace like a loving, caring saint, and yes, you can see the halo over her head. Yes, goddess, saint, angel, mermaid - everything in one, powerful package.

At night, the civilians commemorate, and she wonders, aloud, if that is dancing when you ask if there’s dancing in Paradise Island. You wonder to yourself, as you chat, if Amazon dances are different. Perhaps they are.

You try and teach her how to dance, but it’s not like you know it yourself, do you? Dancing was never your strong suit.

Diana’s eyes shine when she sees snow (for the first time, you presume), and it’s like a moonless sky, dark pools where you can lose yourself in. You do, in fact, lose yourself in her eyes, you and Diana speaking in quiet, soft tones as you sway slowly to the music Charlie sings.

Later, you take her to her room - it’s a little thing the villagers (who had taken a liking to Diana, their savior in red and blue armor, compassionate and kind and ready to defend them at a moment’s notice), and you share no words. She wordlessly asks for you to stay, and you do. 

When you kiss her, it tastes of beer and ash, and for one moment you can feel the adrenaline rushing through your veins as if you’re back in no man’s land, running after her. Diana’s skin is surprisingly soft on your hands, and the smell of gunpowder overpowers you, but you don’t care.

It’s at this moment you’re sure she is your soulmate. She will be your death, and you wish - you wish you had more time with her. You don’t know when you’ll die, but you know there will never be enough time with Diana.

“Could I ask you a question?”, she asks, soft and breathless when you stop kissing her.

“Sure,”, you reply, wondering what it could be.

“What are the words on your skin?”, she asks, and you  _ know  _ she had to have seen them. But she does not ask their meaning, nor their providence. “I have them, too, and I saw some villagers with them. What are they?”

You stop, for a moment. How to explain the concept of soulmates to someone who never had that concept shown, from the mere beginning, to the bitter end? The tragedy of a soulmate, someone who you were destined to love, but to only know the truth when you lost them? How many people never connected the dots between calligraphy and person, and only noticed when it was too late?

“They’re…”, you pause, once more, and her eyes shine with curiosity. “They’re the last words your soulmate will say to you.”

She cocks her head, still curious, but what else can you say?

“That’s it?”, as if she cannot believe, as if it couldn’t be something so simple, but that’s all you have to offer her.

“Pretty much,”, you reply, not sure why you’re so surprised. Does she know what a soulmate is? Do you even want to explain that? Does she care?

She kisses you again, and you decide that maybe it’s not that important. If Diana does not put so much stock on soulmates, then perhaps neither should you.


	3. Chapter 3

It seems like Diana is always running, perpetually chasing something _just_ outside her grasp - and she is. Ares looms over her head, a burden she only knows by heart, but cannot see.

And if she runs, you run behind her, chasing not Ares, but her. You can only provide support; that is the least you can do, make sure that her back is covered.

Her grief for the people of Veld is tangible, and it permeates every single syllable of her words, even as you can feel your throat raw from the bomb. You’re not sure how she can’t feel anything, but you know how - she’s not flesh, but clay; her feelings, however, are as real as anyone else’s.

She runs after Chief’s smoke signal, Amazon-like while her horse races, and you follow her. Diana is quicker, though, swifter than your measly motorcycle can manage, and when you find her, she has already killed Ludendorff, leaving a trail of bodies in her wake - but you can only see a sword jutting through the ceiling (you’d ask how, but you saw how Diana fights; this is no surprise.), and for one brief,  _ brief  _ second, your heart stops, wondering if it was her stuck to the ceiling.

You call for her, gun out and ready to shoot Ludendorff out if he won that battle, but when you go outside, it’s her standing in the ceiling, confused as to why the war hasn’t stopped.

She’s naive, and while endearing, wars cannot be ended so easily, one sword thrust and the god of war is dead, and the great war, over. It’s not that easy, too many threads dangling to be easy.

You try and tell her this, but she is still grieving, she is still naive, she does not understand. For her, the war is over, but you know it’s not.

“I have to go,”, you tell her, and Diana shakes her head, not believing wars cannot be undone so easily.

You go. You still have to destroy Doctor Poison’s bombs, and you can feel the start of a plan form inside your mind, as you take notice of the plane being loaded.

You always thought you’d die during the war; you never knew it’d be true. Part of you wishes it wasn’t the case. Part of you knows you are the one to do this. The others have people that will miss them; you have no one to mourn your death.

(your parents died before the war, and you have no siblings, no uncles and aunts and cousins. You’re alone. That’s what makes you a good spy.)

You see her fight - is that sir Patrick? Is he… No. What the hell.  _ What the hell.  _ You shook your head and keep moving; this is not your battle. It’s Diana’s battle, and Diana’s only. You tell Charlie as much.

When you learn the gas is flammable, you know you will die. There’s no other way, is there? There’s no happy ending, no bed and breakfast and children.

“I need you guys to clear me a path to that plane,”, you say, not bothering to stay as Charlie asks.

You see Diana be thrown in the ground violently by a flying sir Patrick - Ares; what the hell - and run to her, feet moving before you tell them to do so.

“Diana,”, you call, and you know she is not listening, by the way her hand moves to her forehead, as if her brain is mush inside her skull. She’s not processing, trying to understand, trying to find her ground once more. This hurts a bit, but you have a role to play - one last role. You must pretend everything is alright. “I have to go.”

“What?”, she can’t hear, she cannot  _ listen _ . Your solace is that your last words are etched in her skin - a reminder of your love for this woman made of clay. You hope she understands, when she processes what you’re saying to her.

“I have to go,”, you repeat, touching her as softly as you can. You look back - they’re still loading the plane, you still have a little bit of time. You can smell the fire and ash in her skin, or maybe this is the air around you two, but you commit it to memory.

“What are you saying?  _ Steve _ ,”, Diana says your name like a prayer, but it’s not. You don’t want it to be a prayer. “Whatever it is, I can do it. I  _ can  _ do it.”

She’s slurring her words; she cannot do it, she  _ cannot _ . She has to fight Ares and win and end this war. 

This hurts more than you thought it would.

“No, no.”

“Let me do it.”, she repeats, pleading, but this is your duty. Your last act. Your last will.

“It has to be me. I can save  _ today _ ,”, you tell her, fishing your watch from your pocket. “You can save the  _ world _ .”

You look back; the plane is getting ready to take off. You wish you could kiss her one more time, feel her lips on yours and melt.

But you can’t. This isn’t a happy ending you’d find in a cheesy novel. This is war, and wars are not happy affairs.

“I wish we had more time,”, you say, not sure if to yourself or to her, but it’s the truth; this wasn’t long enough to stay by her side, but it was something. 

“What? What are you saying?”, you give her your father’s watch, and you hope she can find solace in it.

It’s time. You stole what little you could, but there's no more.

“I love you,”, you tell her, and let go of Diana, running before you can see the words in her skin burn, leaving behind a scar. When she calls for you, your back burns like fire scorches through it, but there’s no more time. You have a plane to explode, and a day to save. She has the world to save. Your fates are not the same, but you can help her achieve hers, even if it means falling through it.


End file.
